She took one of
the chairs away from its appropriate place by the table, and putting
it close to the broad large hanging shelf I told you about when I
first described her cellar-dwelling, and mounting on it, she pulled
towards her an old deal box, and took thence a quantity of the oat
bread of the north, the "clap-bread" of Cumberland and Westmoreland,
and descending carefully with the thin cakes, threatening to break
to pieces in her hand, she placed them on the bare table, with the
belief that her visitors would have an unusual treat in eating the
bread of her childhood. She brought out a good piece of a
four-pound loaf of common household bread as well, and then sat down
to rest, really to rest, and not to pretend, on one of the
rush-bottomed chairs. The candle was ready to be lighted, the
kettle boiled, the tea was awaiting its doom in its paper parcel;
all was ready.
A knock at the door! It was Margaret, the young workwoman who lived
in the rooms above, who having heard the bustle, and the subsequent
quiet, began to think it was time to pay her visit below.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74